What teachers are for
by Oblakom
Summary: Jarnunvösk is dead. Galbatorix stands before the Elder Riders, and Oromis discerns the signs of madness in him. But chooses to follow his heart over his mind. It is 7886 AC. "On the contrary, Galbatorix-vodhr. I would be glad to be proven wrong. And I would indeed be glad to offer you my help, if you were ready and willing to accept it".
1. The lost Rider

_\- The lost Rider -_

* * *

«Are you tired, Galbatorix-vodhr?».

«There is no need to worry about me, Oromis-elda. I can go on».

The elf tried to keep his eyes as soft as he could as he waited for the human to reach him on top of the steep hill. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but still he nodded and lifted a hand to touch him between the shoulder blades, gently sustaining the human as he took the last steps to overcome the altitude difference in the ground. He had tried to offer him his arm a few hours prior, when he had seen him panting and stumbling, but Galbatorix had went out of his way to avoid being touched and had ended up tripping over his own feet and falling into the tall grass. Oromis had kept silently offering his help as he observed the human trying to get up trice and his legs failing to sustain him trice before deciding that there was a limit to the stubbornness he was willing to tolerate and grabbing him by the elbows, firmly guiding him to a rock he could take a break on. He had quickly learned that Galbatorix would rather die than admit he needed help. Even now Oromis could feel him tense under his touch. He ignored his discomfort and kept his hand on the young man's back a couple of seconds more as they kept walking across the forest.

«It will not be long, I promise».

It would have been faster if Glaedr had carried them. But Glaedr seemed to provoke a strange, unpleasant reaction from Galbatorix that nor elf nor dragon could quite understand yet - painful memories? helplessness? hate? - so they had decided that there would have been no flights that day. No shortcuts, no matter how much needed they were. The days of flight from Ilirea to Ellesméra had already been unpleasant enough for them all.

…And talking of unpleasantries…

_Morzan again?_ Glaedr's vaguely amused voice rumbled in his mind.

Oromis pressed his lips together, feeling the now familiar pressure building up in the back of his mind. _Morzan again_, he confirmed with a mental sigh.

Through their bond, he felt the dragon chuckle. _When will that hatchling give up..._

_Probably when our other hatchling stops plying him with questions he cannot answer to. _

_Will the tiny one survive this?_

…_Will _I_ survive this when I see Morzan again?_ Oromis mused grimly.

The pressure on his mind was getting stronger and stronger as his wards consumed energy to stop the insisting scrying spell. He was seriously starting to regret teaching his disciple that spell. He was almost sure that, somewhere in Ilirea, Morzan was giving free rein to his vast arsenal of swear words as he tried in vain to contact him for the tenth day in a row.

He pressed his lips together. Morzan. Brom. Krovogon. Saphira. Kelda and Ofan who had accepted to keep an eye on them for what was supposed to be a few days at most and had instead turned into almost two weeks of silence. There were certainly a lot of creatures he owed an apology to, and an explanation as well – but he really didn't have one, not even for himself. Oromis never liked empty words. Until he had a real answer for them, his silence would have to be the answer.

Still, he couldn't help but feel relief when Morzan's spell finally lost intensity and the assault on his wards ceased. Not for the cease of the assault itself, but because it was easy to push aside once more the thought of having basically abandoned his disciples and his duty as a teacher on the other side of Alagaёsia like this. It was not for long anyway, he repeated himself, and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

_It will teach them patience. _

Oromis raised an eyebrow. _Are you mocking me, Glaedr?_

Glaedr just laughed in his mind.

Oromis somehow managed to crack the shadow of a smile, the closest thing to an expression of happiness he managed to portray since he left Ilirea.

On his right, Galbatorix was starting to fall behind once more. Oromis was actually surprised that he had managed to travel the whole day with almost no breaks, especially considering the sorry state he was in just a couple of weeks prior.

«It will not be long, Galbatorix-vodhr» he repeated.

«There is no need to worry about me, Oromis-elda. I can go on».

Oromis frowned. It was the third time in a row he received that very same answer. And probably the seventh or eighth time that day. Was it normal? Was this how Galbatorix had always behaved, or was it a sort of mask the young human was trying to put back on, after having let slip too much in front of him? Was he repeating the very same words over and over because he was afraid of saying too much again? Knowing how Galbatorix was before the expedition in the Spine would have been of great help for sure. Now Oromis regretted not talking to Barsmid when he had the occasion.

_When each step you take is a mistake, perhaps it is because you choose the wrong path. _

Glaedr slapped his last thought away, irritated. _The only real mistake you can make is to go on with this mood_, he growled. _Scry Barsmid if you want. Scry Morzan and Brom. Scry whoever you want. Just drop this brooding mood you are in, because I remind you that this was your idea. You were the one to propose it. You were the one to talk Vrael into it. You had dozens of occasions to renege, and yet you didn't. Now it is too late to doubt your own decision. And if you, you who proposed it, are not convinced of what you are doing then you are fooling not only with yourself, Galbatorix and me, but with Vrael, Umaroth and our disciples as well._

_I am aware of it. _

_You sure don't act like you are!_ the dragon pointed out, but then his thoughts softened. _I will always sustain you in every way I can, you know. But I cannot have the sweetness of your heart more than you can have the sharpness of my talons. I cannot fight this battle for you, only you can. But if you yourself don't believe that this battle can be won, then who should believe it? Galbatorix? What is even the point of fighting a battle that you believe to be already lost? You are no fool, Oromis. Do you believe this battle to be lost?_

Did he believe this battle to be lost? Did he believe Galbatorix to be lost? If he had the answers to these questions, surely, he wouldn't have so many doubts about this whole situation.

* * *

Oromis remembered Galbatorix's mad eyes as he stood in front of the Council of the Elders. His unreasonable, aberrant request concealed behind humble words and sweet prayers, shielded by the glorification of his talent that protected him like a magical ward.

* * *

He was the most promising of the new generation, he had been reminded the day Vrael had called the Council to reunite. The most talented. The strongest, the keenest, the most skilled with words and magic and weapons. To his ears, it had sounded as they were trying to shield Galbatorix with his own talent, to excuse him in advance from something wrong he was about to do. Oromis had not liked the tone of those sentences. It was the same tone that had been used to describe Galbatorix in the past years, and he had not liked it since the very first time. Oromis had already heard of him, of course, before that day. The human child who surpassed both elves and trained Riders. The prodigy. Barsmid had never made a mystery of her pride for her disciple, the disciple who had been separated from his companions because of his unreachable talent. The disciple who was already muttered of as destined to equal the glory of Vrael.

Oromis had always listened to these words, but had kept his lips pressed together and his thoughts for himself and Glaedr alone. It had always felt wrong, to keep a child in such high regard. Unhealthy. Dangerous. Children – human children specially – were malleable creatures. Easily influenced. It was easy to turn humbleness and talent into arrogance and abuse of power, using the best intentions but the wrong method. Perhaps Barsmid was too inexperienced as a teacher to be entrusted with such a peculiar disciple. Talented Riders were easy to train, but difficult to handle. Barsmid was one of the greatest spellcasters of the Order, and one of the most talented Riders and greatest swordfighters, but she was not an expert teacher. Teaching was more than knowing. Perhaps, Oromis sometimes had thought, listening to those discourses, she had not been the best choice for such a peculiar student.

But the years were passing and Galbatorix was growing up and the praises were always there and always positive, so maybe... Maybe...

* * *

«They are not coming back. It has been a week and they are not back yet. Barsmid is asking to send a search team for them».

Oromis had closed his eyes and had taken a deep breath as an unpleasant sensation started nesting in his chest. Galbatorix and Jarnunvösk. The prodigies. With two other pairs of dragons and Riders. Lost in the Spine.

«…Why were they in the Spine?» he had asked, hoping, begging to hear that his sensation was wrong and that his colleague would say something about a drill gone wrong and a tragedy caused by the circumstances.

But his interlocutor had simply shaken his head.

Oromis had pressed his lips together to fight back a sigh of dismay.

It was very, very easy to ruin a young talented Rider using the best intentions but the wrong method…

* * *

«Are there news about the Riders and dragons lost in the Spine?».

«The search team found their remains. It was the Urgals. Only Galbatorix's body has yet to be found, apparently».

Only Galbatorix's body… _Only Galbatorix's body…_

«Jarnunvösk…?».

«Her remains were close to those of her friends».

In that moment, Oromis had not known what was the best to hope for. For Galbatorix to be alive, or for Galbatorix to be dead.

* * *

«…in the outer edge of the Spine. A human farmer found him half-death and recognized the _gedwëy ignasia_ on his palm. He was trying to come back to us. He survived. Can you believe it, Oromis-elda? He got ambushed by the Urgals, badly wounded, lost the other half of his soul and still had the strength to cross the Spine and survive. Can you believe it?».

Oromis had preferred not to answer. Weeks alone after the death of his soul-bonded partner, fighting for survival in one of the most savage places of Alagaёsia, plagued by starvation and infected wounds and the worse mental pain imaginable. Could someone actually return from such a nightmare?

* * *

«And Vrael-elda had deemed appropriate to asset to such a request?».

«Barsmid-elda interceded for him».

This time Oromis had not even tried to stop his sigh.

* * *

…No, he had not liked that story since its very beginning. Maybe that was the reason why he had been more cautious than the others. More attentive to spot the cracks in Galbatorix's mask.

With his mind fixed on finding whether there was really something darker hidden behind his honeyed words, it had not been difficult to see through the young man's wards of glorification.

His eyes were empty. Black emotionless abysses that were trying to not reflect the demons that hunted his broken soul. His words were calm and measured. Too elegant and composed for someone who had just lost the partner of his soul, the other half of his mind. His reason to live.

Galbatorix was asking for another reason to live, that day. Another dragon to bond with.

Oromis had come to the Council looking for and expecting a sign of imbalance, but the madness of that request had sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Another dragon to bond with.

Another Jarnunvösk to ease the maddening pain of his soul. To be whole again.

How much of his mind had been damaged, twisted by the pain in those horrible weeks he had spent wandering in the Spine, wounded and alone, without anyone to help him hold himself together? What kind of foolish ideas had he started harboring to withstand the agony of having lost his beloved Jarnunvosk? Of what sort of lies had he convinced himself of?

Another dragon to bond with.

Replace the other half of his soul. There was a reason if Riders who lost their dragons didn't bond again. The bond between a dragon and the chosen Rider was irreplaceable, incomparable. To think to replace that bond, to think to substitute that bond with another was pure madness.

Galbatorix had not realized the weight of what he had asked.

Oromis had to put a firm stop to the very idea of playing along with his madness.

* * *

«Liar! You are all liars! You are not taking this choice for my own good! You do not wish me good, Oromis-elda! You wish me nothing but suffering! You decided that I am unworthy of being a Rider by knowing nothing but my name! You refuse me the very possibility of having another chance!».

Many Elders had gasped and muttered words of outrage at such explosion of anger – many Elders who never had a wild tempered human disciple to keep at bay, many Elders who were unused to the strength of human's emotions. Oromis had had many years to get accustomed to the raw storm of the human mind, many years to grow enough knowledge and acceptance of that race to not get scandalized, now.

When he had answered, his tone had been gentle but firm. «Your mind is damaged, Galbatorix-vodhr. What you are asking for is madness and abomination, but the wounds of your soul prevent you from seeing the truth. I am not devoid of compassion, Galbatorix-vodhr, you have my absolute sympathy, and I do not wish you any more pain. But you will find no happiness nor relief in the path you wish to take, that much I can assure you».

«This is up to me to decide! You don't–».

«This is up to us to evaluate, this why we are here today» he had interrupted him, firmly. «As it is up to us to ensure your wellbeing and–».

«_LIAR!_ You don't care for my wellbeing! You don't want to help me! You don't want me to succeed! You refuse me even the possibility of proving that I am able to keep being a Rider! Because you don't want me to prove you wrong! _Liar! Coward!_».

Maybe trying to reason with him was pointless. Maybe he was already beyond saving.

…But there were tears in his eyes, Oromis had noticed. He was shaking with nerves. Screaming like a caged animal, panicked and helpless. Alone against the whole Council. For some reason, in that moment, as Vrael was about get up and take him at his word and punish him for his aberrant behavior, Oromis had found himself thinking that Galbatorix was _nineteen_. Barely an adult even by the years of his short-lived race. A mere child by the standards of the Riders.

A child broken by the most horrible pain.

He had been right again. Maybe they had brought him back home, but Galbatorix had never really returned from the Spine. There are nightmares you don't wake up from. Nightmares that turn your mind against itself. Maybe they had arrived too late.

There had been too many mistakes with this human, since the very beginning, and maybe it was too late, now, after everything that had happened.

...But_ Galbatorix was nineteen_.

Oromis had never been the kind of elf to make rush decisions, but that day he had spoken without thinking.

«On the contrary, Galbatorix-vodhr. I would be glad to be proven wrong. And I would indeed be glad to offer you my help, if you were ready and willing to accept it».

* * *

Oromis stopped walking with the excuse of observing a butterfly on a flower to give the young human time to reach him.

…Did he believe Galbatorix to be lost? The reason why he was in that situation was because, that day, for a moment, he had believed that Galbatorix was _not_ lost. But it had been only that. A moment. A rushed choice he had taken guided by his emotions. He hoped he had made the right choice trusting his heart over his mind, for once.

The butterfly took flight and passed right in front of his face, spiraling toward the foliage of the trees, toward the red sunset. When she disappeared in the sky, Oromis closed the eyes and took a deep breath.

Galbatorix stopped a step behind him, silently waiting for him to keep moving. Oromis could hear his labored breathing, the soft sound of his clothes as he moved, probably to wipe the sweat off his face.

After a long moment he turned to him. «Come» he said, guiding the human across the last line of trees. Soon, the trees gave way to a large clearing close to the side of a cliff and a low hut, grown between the trunk of four trees. «Here we are, Galbatorix-vodhr. Welcome to my home. These are the Crags of Tel'naeìr, where I live when I have no disciples to teach in Ilirea. This is where you will be living as well, at least for the time being. It is an amazing place to find peace of mind, away from chaos and distractions. I hope you will learn to enjoy this place and the peace it brings as much as I do».

_I hope you will prove my fears wrong, Galbatorix-vodhr. I really hope you will prove that you are not lost._

* * *

_End of the chapter_

* * *

Author's notes:

First of all, a big thank you to whoever read this first chapter, and especially to Chuckling-Ghost who offered to have a look at it to spare you my eventual mistakes. I am not a native speaker, and probably you can tell. _What teachers are for _is my first attempt at a fanfiction for this fandom, and hopefully I didn't make you cringe too badly.

Maybe you noticed a few names you are not familiar with. Here a quick explanation:

\- _Krovogon_: Morzan's dragon. Unnamed in the _Cycle_, we know nothing about this dragon but the color. A male in my imagination - but I think that, exactly like his name, not even his gender was ever specified in canon.

\- _Kelda and Ofan_: Rider and dragon. A young and entusiast pair formerly trained by Oromis.

\- _Barsmid_: An elven Rider, she was Galbatorix's teacher before Jarnunvösk's death.

_...Alla prossima!_


	2. Overlapping duties

_\- Overlapping duties - _

* * *

Galbatorix's silence was going to be a bigger problem than he had anticipated, thought Oromis as he took a sip from his cup of tea. Despite everything, Galbatorix was still a young human. Oromis had expected to see his mask of composed courtesy crack after the first few days together as he gained familiarity with his new temporary home and with him, and leave openings for him to see the true self of the former Rider. For this reason, he had given him plenty of space to adjust, but such thing was not happening. On one side, Oromis could not help but feel impressed by the astonishing control Galbatorix had on his own mind and emotions even in such a difficult situation, on the other side, he felt frustrated by not knowing who and what he was dealing with.

He glanced at the young human, who was sitting in front of him with a teacup – hardly touched, Oromis didn't recall seeing Galbatorix actually _drinking_ from it… another problem to address – in his hand, half lifted toward his mouth, as he had been distracted mid-gesture by the beauty of the nature around them. It had been more than a month since the day Galbatorix had been found at the edge of the Spine and brought back to the civilization, and yet his body was not making the progress Oromis had hoped to see by now. His appearance seemed to reflect what his mind was trying to hide. He was still unhealthily thin, his tanned skin looked paler than it should and he had dark circles under his eyes, and even though it was morning he looked exhausted. His black hair had grown way past his shoulders. Clean – despite his sorry state of mind Galbatorix was meticulous with his hygiene, something Oromis had noticed with relief – but unkept and disheveled.

«Oromis-elda…?» called Galbatorix, noticing that he was being observed.

Oromis smiled without taking his eyes off him. «Your hair seems to have grown much, Galbatorix-vodhr, and it is starting to look rather unruly» he said, bringing attention to the most harmless detail of his observation. «Would like me to help you with it?».

Galbatorix seemed to freeze for a moment, then he blinked and quickly lifted his free hand toward his own neck, trying to reach the tips of his hair from above his shoulder, as if he had realized only now the state of it. «Forgive me, Oromis-elda, for my undignified condition. I will take care of it immediately».

«I was not lecturing you» Oromis reassured him. He couldn't help but notice how Galbatorix pressed his lips together. He seemed annoyed, or worried. Once again, Oromis couldn't help but wonder what his act was hiding. Mere pain, as it would be obvious? Or, as he suspected, something more dangerous? Galbatorix seemed to channel all his strength in appearing calm and master of himself, in dismantling that image of instability he had briefly shown in front of the Council of the Elders. «I was merely offering you my help, as I noticed that you could use it. It will be much easier this way, don't you think?» he said, and leaned toward him a bit, silently challenging the human to let him in his personal space. Once again, knowing how Galbatorix was before the incident in the Spine would have been of great help, but this small opportunity could still bring fruits, if well used.

Galbatorix hesitated, but then he nodded. «Thank you very much, Oromis-elda, I would appreciate your help».

It would have been an encouraging answer if they were using the Ancient Language and if it had not sounded as he was obliged by courtesy to accept his offer. Still, Oromis inclined his head. «My pleasure».

They finished their tea in silence. Then he went inside his hut to find a hairbrush, a pair of scissors and a mirror for the human. Galbatorix remained still and silent as the elf moved behind him and started brushing his hair, but Oromis could feel the tension in his muscles.

_I wonder if he is one of those humans who dislike physical contact, or if his problems lie with me._

Glaedr intensified the contact between their minds. Suddenly, Oromis could feel the sensation of air under his wings, of the strong tail guiding his flight. _Perhaps he is simply unused to be groomed. Not everyone cuddles their disciples the way you do, you know, _he said, doubtfully.

Oromis gave him a mental nod, bringing his attention back to the human. His disciple, as Glaedr reminded him. It was still difficult to think of that young, broken human he didn't even know as _his_ disciple.

«Tell me, Galbatorix-vodhr» he started with the lightest tone he could manage «has Barsmid Svit-kona ever cut your hair?».

Galbatorix remained silent for a moment, and even if he could not see his face Oromis had the impression that he was frowning. «Oromis-elda, I would have never… I have always taken care of myself» he said after a moment, surprise for the odd question was evident in his tone.

Oromis hummed softly and kept brushing his black hair, careful not to pull them. «I see. I, on the other side, Galbatorix-vodhr, greatly love having care of my disciples, you know? The bond between a teacher and his students is, after all, one of the most important bonds a young Rider can form, and it usually goes beyond the mere passing of informations and lasts even after the end of the apprenticeship. Even now that they haven't been my disciples for many years, I still share a strong friendship with most of my former students, some even consider me a member of their family».

He put the hairbrush on the table and took the scissors. Minutes passed as he worked and waited for Galbatorix to say something. Galbatorix remained silent. Oromis could feel Glaedr paying close attention to the human's reactions, more focused on that rather than on his own hunting.

_…Difficult to tell_, grumbled Glaedr as Oromis was about to finish his work, answering to his unexpressed question. _I honestly cannot understand if the fool hatchling insists in holding grudge against you, or if he can think of nothing kind to say about his own teacher not even for the sake of keeping up the appearance._

_Do you believe he blames her to this point?_

Glaedr remained silent for a long moment. Oromis felt the mad accusations Galbatorix had screamed at his face in front of whole Council echo in his head as Glaedr called the memory to his attention. _I would not be surprised. Who knows what may be crawling in his mind?_

Oromis' expression darkened for a moment, and he found himself staring at the back of Galbatorix's head, almost as it could help him see what was inside of it. Whatever it was, it was dangerous – but only for Galbatorix alone, or for all the people around him as well? _This is what I need to uncover._

He put down the scissors and brushed the human's hair one last time. It was now shorter and more even, with the ruined ends cut off, but Oromis still let it long enough to touch his shoulders.

«There we go, Galbatorix-vodhr» he smiled, handing him the mirror. «Hopefully it is to your taste».

Galbatorix took the mirror, but didn't even properly look at it. He made as if to get up – without doubt to properly thank him – but Oromis stopped him putting a hand on his shoulder.

«There is no need to thank me, taking care of my disciples is my pleasure».

This time, Oromis clearly felt Galbatorix flinch under his hand. The human blinked, looking at him for a long moment, but before he could say something Oromis moved from behind him to his side, crouching down next to his chair to better look at him in the eyes, and placing himself beneath him, a gesture that hopefully would help the human relax.

«Yes, Galbatorix-vodhr. The reason you are here with me is so that I could support you and help you, and so will I, if you will allow me. Will you allow me to support you and help you, Galbatorix-vodhr?».

The question seemed to make him uncomfortable, something that did not came as a surprise to the elf. It was, after all, the first time he pushed on Galbatorix's boundaries and probably the first time he did so to anyone in his career as a teacher as well. Trust was not something a teacher could demand. Trust was something to be earned, to be build up over the time. But time was exactly what they didn't have. The longer Galbatorix insisted on hiding in his own mind, on shielding himself behind his composed, cold mask, the less likely it was that he could ever recover.

Oromis did not doubt that the human was behaving like that to show him that his mind was sane, to try and prove him that he had misjudged him. Out of pride? Out of spite? Or out of fear that, if he let his mask slip and the elf see the true state of his mind, Oromis might find a proof of his insanity and decide to use it to exile him as Vrael had wanted to do? If it was the latter Oromis could understand it, but still it was a frustrating situation. Oromis needed to see. He needed to know to be able to help, no matter how dark the truth was. Like a physical wound that had been left without care for too long and was now infected, covered in pus, disgusting to see, so a wound of the mind needed to be observed to be treated. No matter how horrible it was. If Galbatorix insisted in keeping his wound hidden from him, his wound could do nothing but worsen. Galbatorix could not hope to be able to save himself. He had hoped that Galbatorix would instinctively open up more on his own, but he didn't and now he had no choice but to push him to do so.

Galbatorix kept looking down at him without blinking, just slightly frowning, but his eyes were unfocused. Oromis refrained himself from touching his mind to have a better perception of his emotions, and kept waiting, without moving or speaking, for him to emerge from his thoughts.

After a long while, the human's black eyes seemed to focus on his silver – and his whole expression hardened. It lasted less than an instant, but it was still enough for Oromis to catch the hatred in his sight before Galbatorix managed to push his own emotions back under control.

Oromis pretended not to notice.

«Oromis-elda» he finally said, in a much warmer tone than that Oromis had heard him use until now, «I will do whatever you will ask me to do».

…Which promised _obedience_, not trust.

_He believes that obedience is what I want of him. He thinks I want him to bend before I consider giving him anything._

Far from them, up in the warm blue sky, Glaedr snorted. Oromis could feel it in his mind as clearly as if he had been the one to do so. _He feels like a prisoner, and you and I are his captors._

Which, thinking about the last events, was comprehensible and not strange at all. Galbatorix's offered choice had been between following him to the other side of Alagaёsia or being exiled by Vrael – and Oromis could see how that was no choice at all. It was easy to understand how Galbatorix's broken mind could have led him to think about this opportunity from the most malicious point of view. Galbatorix had seen all the Elders as enemies that day, there was no reason to hope that he could have changed his opinion on him.

_It will not be easy to change his mind._

Glaedr hesitated. _He believes us to be his captors, but in truth he is prisoner of his own mind. He hides into it because the world outside it, without Jarnunvösk, is too painful to bear. He will never change until he manages to see that there is something safe he can trust other than himself._

Oromis nodded. It was an answer for both Galbatorix and Glaedr. The first could see it, the second felt it.

«I am relieved to hear I have your cooperation» he smiled as nothing was amiss. There was no need to alarm the human addressing his odd behavior for now – sooner or later they would need to deal with it, but not yet.

Galbatorix nodded. And remained silent.

Oromis looked back at him for moment, then he let his eyes openly fell on Galbatorix's wrist. «…You are not eating enough» he observed, when the human followed his gaze. Galbatorix immediately snatched the hand from under the elf's eyes, almost by reflex, and clasped it with his other hand in his lap. Oromis lifted his eyes back to those of the human, unabated, and went on as nothing had happened. «I understand your frame of mind, but taking care of yourself is of the utmost importance right now. Is there something I can arrange to help you? Something to make our meals more enjoyable to your taste… a recipe from Inzilbêth, perhaps?».

At hearing the name of his home province, Galbatorix _flinched_. His eyes unfocused as if a memory had suddenly assaulted his mind. But when he spoke, his voice sounded calm and polite as always. «There is no need to bother yourself, Oromis-elda. You are already providing me everything I may need».

Oromis tilted his head to the side, intrigued by that unexpected reaction. _Glaedr–_

_…I would not know…_

That was… _interesting_, to say the least. He wanted to interrogate him about it, but he knew that it would be unwise to try and push him to talk about uncomfortable arguments so soon. Instead, he asked: «Are you well, Galbatorix-vodhr?».

«I am well, Oromis-elda».

«Please, don't lie to my face».

«I am not lying».

«Then why are you hiding?» he inquired, softly, and reached out his hand, palm upwards, to invite the human to show him the hand he was still pressing in his lap.

Galbatorix's eyes briefly fell on his hand, and then back on his face. After a long moment, Oromis saw his hand twitch and move slightly…

…And Morzan chose that exact same moment to attack his wards with the strength of a charging bull.

Oromis flinched. While it was nothing he could not sustain even without Glaedr, the strength and violence of the attack surprised him. Morzan was a strong, powerful young human and, despite his preference for physical combat that sometimes led him to neglect the training of his mind, his mental lashes could be impressive, but that day they were coming from _the other side of Alagaёsia_.

_Krovogon? _wondered Glaedr.

Oromis frowned and pressed his lips together. Krovogon was probably the answer, but Krovogon was not the kind of dragon to lend his energy to his Rider for futile things. Not the kind of dragon to indulge Morzan's temper. When he had left, he had silently put his faith in him to keep the wild tempered human at bay for Kelda. It had been three weeks – three weeks in which Krovogon had seemed to be doing a marvelous job at keeping Morzan calm and as well behaved as possible now that he was not there to do that himself.

_Why is he playing along with Morzan, now?_

Glaedr hesitated. _If something had happened, Ofan would have already contacted me, _he finally said. _Or Saphira._

Oromis squinted. Glaedr was right – but, even with Krovogon by his side, Morzan was an expert in getting himself into troubles. However, the raw storm of energy that was attacking his ward was surely not coming from someone panicked or wounded. Oromis give a mental sigh. _Perhaps I am just too used to associate Morzan with trouble…_

_I cannot say I can blame you, _chuckled Glaedr, sending him quick flashes of all the times he had to rush to separate Morzan from some other apprentice before someone could get seriously injured.

Oromis closed his eyes for a moment. _Don't remind me, my friend. Don'–! _Oromis frowned, feeling a second, more delicate pressure building up in the back of his mind. Kelda. What could possibly bring Kelda to scry him so suddenly, when they had talked just the previous evening, and at same time _Morzan_ was trying to reach him, nonetheless? It was late morning. They should have been together for their lesson. Morzan and Brom with Kelda and Krovogon and Saphira with Ofan.

He absent-mindedly got back to his feet, and only in that moment his eyes fell on the human, who was observing him, cautious but curious.

«Excuse me a minute, Galbatorix-vodhr. Other duties call for me» he told him, then gestured toward the small table, upon which there still was a bowl of fruit Oromis had brought there for their breakfast, and that he had been the only one to touch. «It will not take me long. Why don't you try to eat something, in the meanwhile? A cup of tea is hardly a sufficient breakfast».

As he hurried inside his hut, with the corner of his eye he clearly saw Galbatorix turn his head to follow his movements.

_If he will not spy on your affairs I can fit on your shoulder,_ grumbled Glaedr.

Oromis hummed in agreement – Glaedr could not hear the sound, but he would still perceive him. The golden dragon was right. Oromis had no doubts that the human would try to stick his nose into his conversation. There was even a chance that, seeing how quickly he had abandoned their conversation to find the privacy of his hut, Galbatorix might think that his affairs were about him. Without an idea of what Kelda might say, conjuring a ward to prevent Galbatorix from eavesdropping would be the safest option – but it could come with the price of making the already paranoid human even more convinced that he was not a friend but a captor, and that he was plotting behind his back.

_Let him listen, then, _he finally sighed, approaching the mirror on the wall.

He murmured the words that were necessary to allow Kelda's scrying spell to reach him, and almost immediately a slim elf appeared on the mirror. She didn't immediately pay attention to him, she was looking around, with her long, brown hair fluttering in the wind around her face. She was flying. Oromis could see a segment of azure sky behind her, and the loud, rhythmical sound of dragon's wings. Wherever she was, she was not too far from Ilirea.

«Kelda-finiaril…?».

«…_Ebrithil!_» she exclaimed, her voice a bit more high pitched than usual for having been caught by surprise. Her image on the mirror quivered as she moved in Ofan's saddle, changing position to the reflective object she was using to communicate with him, and she pressed two fingers to her lips. «Atra esterní ono thelduin».

«M or'ranr llífa unin hjarta onr» smiled Oromis. «Has something happened, Kelda-finiaril?».

Kelda bit her lower lip, lowering her gaze for a moment. «I don't know, Oromis-elda» she hesitated. «I hope not, but we cannot find Morzan-finiarel nor Krovogon».

That was exactly what he didn't want to hear, but he didn't let his voice betray his anxiety. «Explain yourself, please».

She sighed. «I don't know what happened exactly, Oromis-elda. Ofan and I were waiting with Saphira and Brom-finiarel for them to arrive, so we could start our lesson, when Morzan-finiarel stormed in and started screaming at me. He had found out what your absence is… attributed to, ebrithil» she explained, and then she quickly added: «I don't know from whom he received this information, I am sorry».

Oromis sighed. If that was what had happened, then he could call himself lucky. He had known since the very first day that his silence was nothing but a temporary solution and that, sooner or later, he would have found himself in the need of explaining his disciples the situation, or they would have found answers on their own. He was not the only Councilor who had disciples in Ilirea, and while he trusted his colleagues to not diverge informations that were not theirs to diverge he needed to remember that his disappearance must have not passed unnoticed. Suddenly, his disciples had found themselves with a temporary teacher as he and Glaedr had disappeared, and no explanations to give to the other young Riders and dragons who were their friends. So, how long until someone put the pieces together and noticed that he had left Ilirea within the days of Galbatorix's return? Galbatorix's tragic expedition in the Spine had been topic of discussion in Ilirea for many months, there was no possibility for it to be already forgotten, as there was no chance that nobody would be able to link it to his disappearance, now. Galbatorix's request to speak to the Council of the Elders had not been made public, but exactly like his disciples, the disciples of the other Councilors were informed that the Council had reunited under Vrael's request and disciples _talked._

No, his silence and his choice to keep his disciples in the ignorance were not solutions meant to last. In hindsight, perhaps he had been very fortunate that the waters had stayed calm for so long.

«…And Morzan stormed off before you could stop him» he guessed, focusing his thoughts back to his conversation with Kelda.

The elven Rider nodded. «We _could_ have stopped him, maybe… with force and magic… but, ebrithil–».

«No, you made the most sensible choice, Kelda-finiaril. Force is never to be used on a student unless in extreme circumstances» he interrupted her. «Also, Morzan must have left with Krovogon, as I see that Ofan is landing you his wings to search for him. I have known Morzan for three years, and I can assure you that, when he is in this state of mind, it is for the best to leave him alone with Krovogon for a bit to blow off some steam. Krovogon will bring him back to you once he feels that Morzan is willing to cooperate».

Kelda nodded, looking relieved even if still a bit dubious. «Are you sure, ebrithil?».

«Has Morzan told you something that may lead you to think otherwise?».

«He–» she hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. «He was very angry, but he said nothing in particular. He just… gave me a… a "message" for you, Oromis-elda… He… Forgive me, ebrithil, but I am not really comfortable with repeating what he said».

If Kelda looked mortified, the corner or Oromis' mouth twitched in half a smile. Normally, such a thing could have been taken as a scandalous lack of respect. But he had trained and raised Morzan for three years now. Wild, aggressive, emotive Morzan. Sadness and rage generally overlapped into him – being angry was easier, for him, than being in pain.

«There is no need to: I can imagine it». Oromis smiled to try and reassure her. «There will be no need to punish or reprimand Morzan in any way, let alone Krovogon. Under normal circumstances I would tell you to not tolerate such behavior, but I am the one at fault, here, after all… No, Kelda-finiaril, I appreciate your solidarity, but denying the truth is of no use».

«I… Yes, ebrithil. What should I tell them? They will want answers even more than before, now».

Oromis smile widened. «Tell them that I am flattered by their affection for me, and that, since they are so eager to get me back, I expect them to be equally eager to make me proud by showing me all the things they have learned from you and from Ofan and fruits of their hard work when we will meet again».

Kelda smiled back. «I will be sure to tell them».

«Very well then. Again, Kelda-finiaril, Glaedr and I really appreciate you helping us with this. And, please, give Ofan our thanks».

«It's our pleasure, ebrithil» she said. «Oh…! One moment, ebrithil».

«Oh?».

The reflection on the mirror suddenly moved as Kelda rotated the scrying object she had in her hands. After a moment, Oromis could see a long, strong draconic neck covered in shiny blue-greyish scales from the same prospective Kelda had. The dragon turned his head to glance at his own shoulders, and emitted a soft growl.

«Thank you, Ofan» said Oromis, inclining his head toward the dragon.

Ofan slowly closed his eyes in an expression of happiness, puffing white smoke clouds from his nostrils.

Then, Oromis undid the spell and the mirror on the wall turned to reflect only his image.

_Poor Kelda, _chuckled Glaedr in his mind. _If after this first experience she still expresses the desire of becoming a teacher I will personally see that her dreams come true._

Oromis nodded distractedly. _This was expected, but it still complicates things._

_Maybe it does, but until Krovogon sides with Ofan, does not indulge Morzan's temper and keeps trusting us there is no need to worry. He will keep Morzan calm where Kelda cannot. A great dragon, I cannot imagine a better partner of soul for that fiery hatchling… not like those dragon-servants who cannot stand their ground against the whims of a tiny human._

Oromis groaned internally at the mere thought. A weak-willed dragon as Morzan's soul-bonded partner. _That _would be a tragedy. _But how long until Krovogon will get restless as well?_

Glaedr remained silent for a long moment. Then, instead of answering, he asked: _What do you plan on doing, now? We _should _talk to our disciples, Oromis. Silence will only make us sound as cowards. Or traitors of our duties._

_That I know, but I have nothing concrete to tell them. I can only do so much to make this situation better, and I can make no promises. They would be as unsatisfied as they are now, possibly even more._

_So what do you suggest we do? _

Oromis glanced outside of the window. From a distance, Galbatorix seemed calm and relaxed, a dutiful student patiently waiting for his teacher. _I will observe Galbatorix for three weeks more, before making any decision on the matter. Krovogon and Saphira do not worry me, but I need to be sure that Galbatorix does not represent a threat for Morzan and Brom. Brom is naive, and Morzan impetuous, and Galbatorix had always been talented in the arts of the mind. _

_Jarnunvösk, _Glaedr corrected him. _Galbatorix was lauded, and indeed talented, but Framar more than once said that Jarnunvösk was the most talented in understanding the other creatures and their weaknesses, and that her Rider learned most of his tricks from her. Now Jarnunvösk is dead, and her Rider's mind broken. The question remains whatever this made Galbatorix weaker, or more desperate and dangerous._

_Whatever the answer is, I will not risk the wellbeing of two children to indulge their impatience._

_You cannot expect Galbatorix to make any significant progress before three weeks have passed. It may happen, but expecting it would be foolish._

_No, but I can expect to have a clearer idea of what his state of mind is, and of whether it is safe to introduce him to Brom and Morzan._

He left his hut and returned to the human who was waiting for him. Galbatorix shot him a look of polite curiosity, as he was silently hoping that Oromis would inform him about his affairs. Oromis didn't doubt for a second that the former Rider had used his magic to eavesdrop the whole conversation, but he still smiled.

«My duties are many, and I am neglecting some of them, I am afraid» he explained. «But there is no need to worry about these things, now. Come, let's have a walk. The weather is magnificent, and the forest is full of wonders that humans rarely have the luck of witnessing».

He only hoped that Krovogon would keep buying them time.

* * *

_End of the chapter_

* * *

Author's notes:

Ok, _wow_… A _giant_ thanks to the people who had put this story between their Favorite and/or Followed Stories – you guys have no idea how much it means to me. And a _giant _thank you to _Chuckling-Ghost_, who has kindly offered to have a look at this second chapter as well.

What to say? Things are not moving that fast, but they are moving. Galbatorix is not ready nor willing to open up to Oromis, nor to trust him, and on the other side of Alagaёsia Morzan definitively is not fine with having been dumped without an explanation and having being told to just deal with it. Can we blame him, though? Oromis doesn't. I have not forgotten Brom, obviously – but in this story Brom is still twelve, while Morzan is fifteen. Also, I imagine Brom being respectful and well behaved, so it is kind of natural that Oromis is more focused on the troublesome disciple.

_SaphiraFan95_: Thank you for the review! I am glad that you liked it! Hopefully you were not disappointed by this second chapter.

_xGibbs_: Thank you for the review! I am glad you liked it! I hope that I managed to keep your interest up with this second chapter!

…So, guys. This is it for this second chapter, hope you enjoyed it. _Alla prossima!_


	3. Left behind

_\- Left behind -_

* * *

«…"Behave yourself, I will be back soon"! Yes. Sure. We _saw_ how fucking _soon_ you decided to come back, old elf!» growled the young human, striding from one side of the clearing to the other. As he strolled by it, he furiously kicked one of the stones containing the small campfire, sending it to fly against the trunk of a tree.

One month! He had told them…! It was supposed to be…! One – _one month_! They had waited him for…! _One fucking month!_ They had waited _that bastard_ like…! And the fucking _piece of shit_…!

* * *

«Oromis-elda is, after all, one of the greatest Riders and best teachers of our time and _those two_ are…».

«This for sure. But do you really think he would–».

«It's Galbatorix. _Galbatorix. _He used magic for the first time after _one month of training. _They say that Jarnunvösk could not even speak yet and–» the young Rider had flinched, noticing his presence, and stopped talking.

Morzan had felt his blood boiling. When he had taken a step toward them, the two young men had jumped on their feet, alarmed by the expression on his face.

«…What are you talking about? _I want to know what are you talking about!_».

* * *

«_Galbatorix_» he hissed that name like it was a swear word. So, finally. After fucking _weeks…_! Weeks waiting for him like idiots. Weeks scrying him and listening to that she-elf's bullshit and… He kicked another rock with a curse. «…To think that we _waited_ that fucking bastard…!».

…To think that they had even laughed and joked about his absence…!

* * *

«Do you think the Masters will come back tomorrow? It has been two days».

He had cheerfully waved a hand at Brom's impatience. «The best two days of my life» he had laughed. «And hopefully more will pass».

* * *

…And more days had passed_. _And they _had _waited. He clenched his fists. His heart was racing, he felt blood roaring in his ears at the mere memory. He started walking again around the clearing like a trapped beast. «To think that I even scried that bastard…!».

* * *

«I would like to know how the Ebrithilar are doing… They should have been long back. What if something happened?».

Sometimes an eye roll is worth a hundred words, but he had still bothered to give him an open answer, if nothing to try and put an end to the conversation. For some reason, thinking that the two old coots should had been back days ago and instead had not even bothered to let them know about the delay had grated on him. «Don't be an idiot. What can happen to two Councilors, here in Ilirea?» he had grunted, and after a moment, only half-joking, added: «Don't worry, bad coins always turn up».

«But we talked to the others and they say that the other Councilors are already back».

«I know».

«But no one knows where our Masters are».

«Ah, the great joys of having a secretive shit as a teacher…».

«Do you think that there is a way to talk to Master Oromis?».

He had felt a wave of irritation at Brom's questions – he didn't _need _the old bastard back. He didn't _care _where he was or what may have happened to him. He was perfectly fine even without him, and thank you very much. Really. Bloody nagging elf who had a fit if he was a few minutes late in the morning claiming lack of respect, but was completely fine with letting them wait for him for days and days without bothering to give an explanation.

But then… there was _that_ spell that he had taught him once, wasn't it? For emergencies, he had said… He didn't need the old bastard back. He was not worried. He had tried to scry him anyway.

* * *

To think that he had scried him, looked for him, while the bloody elf had already decided to dump them…! He stopped by the campfire, forcibly ripping his thoughts from that subject. Thinking about that, thinking about having looked for the elf like a dumped dog looks for its owner was unbearable.

One month. Waiting the elf. Searching the elf. _Worr–_No_. _It was humiliating. The memory of the hours spent on that bloody mirror was enough to twist his guts, to tighten his throat. How could he had been so stupid? Expecting someone to return. He should have known it. He _knew _it! It had been the first fucking lesson of his life! The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger and suddenly there was not enough air and he was shaking and…

He grabbed the rabbit he was cooking on the campfire and started violently shaking the spit to cool it down, just to keep his hands occupied, just to focus on something else, something that was not the thought of having _waited _for the bloody bastard. He glared around as if looking for something to unleash his rage on. Anything. Just to avoid thinking. But he found nothing.

* * *

«It has been more than two weeks».

«I know».

«But… they were supposed to be back after two days».

«I _know_».

«Did Master Oromis answered to y–».

«_SHUT UP!_».

* * *

«…Maybe we were not good enough for his mighty elven-ass, but at least we are not cowards like him!». He took a deep breath and tore a bite from the rabbit to try and push down the annoying lump in his throat, but he found out that swallowing was almost impossible. «…And this _sucks_!» he snapped, tossing the roasted meat away with all his strength, grateful to have something physical to direct his rage on. The spit flied spinning across the clearing and disappeared in the bushes.

_…Or, _grumbled a deep voice in his mind, _you could have given that to me._

He quickly turned to the large red dragon who was laying on the opposite side of the campfire, with his horned head on his front legs and his eyes closed. «You know _what, _Krovogon–».

_I know_, Krovogon interrupted him without moving a muscle. _Believe it or not our minds _are_ connected._

«So this doesn't piss you off at all?!» he snapped, taking big steps toward him. As he passed by, he grabbed one of the half-burned branches of the campfire, wielding it toward the head of the dragon like a flaming sword. «You are fine with being treated like an idiot, dumped here like a fucking dog and told to suck it up?!» he roared, letting his anger explode. «He doesn't even have the nerve to show us his face! A "couple of days" my ass! He played us for fools! Found himself a better student! Treated us like fucking dogs he can dump and still expect to wiggle the tail when he finally deigns to remember we exist! And you are fine with–».

One large, black eye snapped open, staring right at him. _Morzan._

It was enough to silence him. Morzan pressed his lips together and squeezed his hand tighter around the branch, his heart racing and a wild but powerless fury burning in his mismatched eyes. Krovogon said nothing and just kept staring at him, the black of his iris almost seemed to be slowly whirling around an even darker pupil. After a long moment, Morzan took a shaking breath and lowered his gaze. «…How can you be fine with it?» he repeated, hissing the question between clenched teeth.

Krovogon breathed out slowly and lifted his head, moving it toward his Rider. Without a word, he opened his jaws and wrapped his barbered tongue around the blazing piece of wood in Morzan's hand, pulling it gently out of his hold. Without protesting or lifting his eyes on him, Morzan let the branch slip from his fingers and inside the mouth of the dragon, where it was instantly consumed by magical dark red flames.

_Do you think I am? I _am_ angry, _he finally said. Morzan's head snapped up at the dragon's words. _However, _added Krovogon, before his Rider could say anything, _while you kicked and screamed, I tried to put the pieces together. And I think that Oromis and Glaedr are not that proud of their actions either._

«Don't be ridiculous» spat Morzan. «Our "Masters" can do _no wrong_, remember?».

The dragon just hummed and pushed the human with his snout, trying to move him toward his front leg.

Morzan shook his head, but still allowed Krovogon to guide him, and sat on the muscular limb without resisting. Krovogon's presence was always good. Krovogon was his only real friend, the only one who was always there, the only one who cared. Krovogon always made things hurt less. But that time, as soon as he was in the safety of his embrace, he discovered that the pain in his chest was not getting less intense at all. He found himself shaking again, his throat feeling too tight again. He pressed the palms of his hands over his own eyes as soon as he felt them burning, but it was not enough to push tears back, not enough to force himself to calm down, because there was nothing worth crying for, nothing at all, and he hated crying and he almost never did it because it always hurt so fucking much and it was not worth it, especially not for… not for…

Krovogon moved his wings to cover him and pushed his snort against him, and Morzan found himself holding on the harsh scales and pressing his forehead against them as violent, hysteric sobs rocked his body.

_Come on, Morzan… _muttered the dragon, soft but a bit hesitant in front of that emotional outburst, and embraced him with his mind as well as with his body.

It took him many minutes to manage to calm down and let go of Krovogon, who moved his head away a bit to observe him better. Taking deep breaths, he rubbed his hands over his face, to regain control over himself and wipe away the tears, and closed his eyes, feeling suddenly empty and exhausted. He was not sure what was worse, if the burning, suffocating rage of a few minutes back or this.

He felt the gentle touch of Krovogon's snout on his temple, and a soft blow of warm air wrapped him. He basked in the sensation of that gentle heat and slowly moved backward to lean against the dragon's shoulder, letting the partner of his mind sustain him entirely. _What did you mean earlier? _he asked.

_Oromis is an elf, just an elf, no matter what he says, and we dragons are already too proud for our own good, _explained Krovogon, allowing the conversation to go on as if nothing had happened, something for which Morzan was always grateful to him._ If you pair this with the vanity of an elf, you can obtain two minds who'd rather disappear on the other side of Alagaёsia than admit that they made a mistake. _

A mistake? He generally trusted Krovogon more than himself – Krovogon was much better than him with all those things that involved understanding other people – but this time he could not bring himself to believe that his intuition was the right one. He refused to believe that the bloody elf – unbearable old coot who loved logic and precision above anything else – could have just been a victim of the circumstances. That was not _Oromis. _

_And so what? Are you telling me to just "have patience", then, like the old elf would want me to? _he finally asked, not completely sarcastic.

_Of course not. I want to set that elf on fire as much as–_

_Be my guest._

Krovogon chuckled. _…But despite all the times he makes my scales irk, I really don't think he would ever be so unfair to you or that other hatchling Brom on purpose. He does care for you, doesn't he?_

_That's what he says, generally right before one of his endless lectures_, Morzan commented darkly. Even _talking _about the old bastard was enough to make him angry and resentful again. _"Morzan, even if you refuse to see it, everything I do is because I care for you and for your future, and I wish you good, and you need to understand that…" and then he goes on and on. Don't ask for the rest, generally I am already half-asleep by this point. _

_In any case, _pointed out Krovogon, ignoring his Rider's snappy remark. _I cannot think of any instance in which he has been cruel just for the sake of it. But I can think of many instances in which he avoided unpleasant topics by entirely cutting off the conversation._

Morzan sighed. _Yeah, he does that. A lot, _he admitted.

_And, if I remember right, he was not in his happiest mood the day he left either._

* * *

«A meeting?».

The elf had nodded, interlacing his fingers in font of him. «Vrael-elda has requested a meeting of the whole Council, and I must attend».

«Vrael-elda will come here!» Brom had squealed, jumping up from his chair with such energy that he had hit the table, spilling tea from their cups. «Really? When? For how long? Will we be able to see him? Will we be able to _meet_ him, Ebrithil? Please! Is it true that he can–».

Morzan had rolled his eyes. «He's the Leader of the Order, not a dog, you idiot» he had interrupted him, before Brom could even start gracing him with some of his most absurd fantasies. «And I can assure you that he doesn't give a crap about meeting us».

Brom's face had fallen a bit, but he had not seemed to lose his enthusiasm. «But you know him, Ebrithil, don't you? Isn't he your friend? I beg you, Ebrithil, consider inviting him for a cup of tea, it would…».

Morzan had instinctively tuned out Brom's voice. Exactly what he needed: Vrael as the main topic of the day. Brom could go on for _hours. _«Fucking gods, why me?» he had groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Then, something had caught his attention mid-gesture. Through his fingers he had shot a look at the old elf sitting in front of them, and had been surprised to notice that he was not paying the slightest attention to neither of them. Actually, he had not even rebuked him for the way he had addressed Brom earlier nor for his language, now that he thought about it.

Intrigued, Morzan had lowered his hands to better observe his teacher. The tea spilled by Brom had stained a sleeve of his white garment, but he had not even seemed to notice. No, Oromis had been sitting quietly, with his eyes low and unfocused and a slight frown on his face.

Morzan had raised an eyebrow. _Oho, did you see that, Krovogon? Looks like the old elf's pissed._

* * *

No, the old elf was definitively not happy that day, even if until now he had not put too much weight on that. After all, a meeting of the whole Council of the Elders could not be such a humorous affair. They dealt with politics and laws and organizational problem and all those things that named alone where enough to put him to sleep for the good part of an afternoon. All those things that could not possibly be that interesting, not even for an elf like Oromis. So, it had not crossed his mind that the old elf's bad mood could have been caused by something else other than the meeting. Even if…

_Well, he can cry me a river for all I care_, he growled, stubbornly refusing to let go of his bad mood. He didn't want to come up with excuses for the bloody elf. He wanted to punch him in the face. _He's still a coward. He still treated us like shit. And he himself doesn't follow the rules he applies to us: if _we _had done such a thing, he would have been mad. He gets mad at nothing to us, and then we have to put up with his bullshit? I don't think so._

Krovogon grunted. _How to deny it. But, as I said, he's an elf. Elves are incredibly slow-moving, unnerving creatures; dragons bonded to them say that an elf can contemplate a single flower from sunrise to sunset. I honestly don't know what most of my brothers and sisters see in that race... _Krovogon made a brief pause to recollect his thoughts. _The point is: Oromis is an elf; he behaves like an elf. He calls you to lesson and then has you waiting for half an hour while he does his own things and sees no wrong–_

_Who even eats blackberries like _that_!_

Krovogon puffed dark smoke from his nostrils. _Blackberries aside… That elf flies at one and only speed, and we are expected to follow his rhythm. So, if you ask me, he is just killing some time as he always does, waiting for what he believes will be the right moment to see us again._

_So we're still going with the "deal with it" plan as always. Good to know. Do we also have to prepare them flowers for when they will be back?_

_…Could you please be fifteen and not five for a minute, Morzan? _

Morzan sighed and closed his eyes for a long instant. Then, with a movement of his hand, he invited the dragon to keep talking.

_Thank you, _grumbled Krovogon, not without a touch of amusement in his thoughts. _I am just trying to explain you the reasoning behind Oromis and Glaedr's silence, not to tell you to accept it as right. Blind anger will bring you nowhere but to another sleepless night. _

_Yes, I know. _Morzan changed position a bit to sit more comfortably on the scaly leg. _So you think that the old coots didn't dump us for good. _

Krovogon hesitated. _No, I don't think they did. Or at least I don't think that this was their first intention._

_What does that mean?_

_That I don't think that they left with the intention of leaving us behind. And, as I said, I don't think that their silence means that they abandoned us. But we don't what happened at the meeting. Maybe even Oromis and Glaedr don't know what their position is, right now. Maybe they are waiting for instructions themselves. Those little rats have it easy, going around and speculating about other people's affairs, but those are nothing but pointless speculations. People like to talk, but they don't think. That Galbatorix _has _his own teacher, after all. If he really asked to stay in the Order he should have been returned to his own teacher. But for some reason he ended up with _our _teachers. And unfortunately, we have no way of knowing that reason. Only they do. And the _whole Council _reunited to discuss this thing, so I doubt that it was up to Oromis and Glaedr only._

Morzan remained silent for a long moment, pondering what Krovogon said. But with the little they knew it was difficult to speculate about the situation. He felt as if his thoughts had become circular, repetitive. And the red dragon was right: speculations were pointless things, and Morzan had never liked speculations and words anyway. Actions were important. Taking an action, doing something, moving the situation from its stagnant point.

…But how?

_We could do it, _he said after a moment, pondering the idea that was forming in his brain. _We could go. Go and find them. Face them. Force them to tell us what is going on._

_Run? _Krovogon seemed to consider it for a moment. _It will never work. Even if we managed to lose Kelda and Ofan–_

_We already did it once. Today._

_And where would we go? Do you have an idea about their current position? Alagaёsia is a big place, you know? Even a dragon can very well disappear there._

Morzan hesitated. _I don't know, _he admitted. _But I will come up with something, just give me a couple of days. I'm sick of his bullshit. The old elf's not winning this. He's not._

* * *

_End of the chapter_

* * *

Author's notes:

Ok, here I am! I am very sorry for the delay, but both my personal life and my own health had been kicking me in the butt lately, and I am in full exam session, so, please, have mercy.

Guys… _Guys… _6 Favorites and 13 Followed? You're killing me. A giant thanks to all of you.

Hopefully this chapter did not disappoint you too badly and you still managed to enjoy it, even if you were probably expecting Oromis and Galbatorix, but I needed this peek on Morzan. Don't worry, we'll return on the Crags of Tel'naeìr with the next chapter.

Eh, Morzan, Morzan, Morzan… Many people's headcanon is that he despised Oromis and was a harsh and unloving prick since he was a child, but, honestly, I always had a different story in my mind. Canon strongly implies that young Riders were separated from their families to be trained by the teacher who chose them, so I find it difficult to believe that these teachers would not form a strong bond with their students, like Oromis himself said previously. Morzan is a difficult young Rider, but I can imagine him being more attached to Oromis that he himself believes or wants to admit, and more than the same Oromis gives him credit for.

Ah, "_Who even eats blackberries like _that_!_" is referred to this: "Oromis meticulously disassembled a blackberry, prying out one plump segment at a time." – [_Eldest_, On the Crags of Tel'naeìr], because you really could not expect me not to comment on Oromis' unnerving habits. I know Paolini was going for "old and wise mentor who lives calmly and teaches his disciple patience", but honestly if I was there and someone acted to my face like Oromis often does during his lessons, this person would not teach me patience. This person would get on my nerves. Badly. (Still love the old elf, though).

_Guest_: Thank you very much! I hope you will keep reading my story!

_Phantomdancer15: _Don't worry, I will! Hopefully I will not be so unbearably slow for the next chapters… I hope you will keep following me!

_xGibbs_: No, there are not, and this surprised me a lot when I first peeked in this fandom. Mostly because the Elders' decision to exile Galbatorix always rubbed me as _way_ too cruel for a group of people who are described as good guys and compassionate peacekeepers. Especially if we consider that canonically it was this decision that drove Galbatorix even more into madness and pushed him toward his revenge, which means that they very same Fall of the Riders could have been avoided if the Elders had showed a bit of their lauded will to help those who suffer – I am not talking about the "new dragon" part, I am talking about the "kick him out" part. Even more if we keep in mind that _Oromis_ was the one who led to this outcome. He is supposed to be kind, compassionate and understanding… so, what the fresh hell possessed him to see a young man who lost literally everything included half of his very own mind and who is _clearly not fine_ and to think that it was perfectly fine to treat him like a criminal? Ok, I will really cut my rumbling now, it's already too long as it is. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

…So, guys. This is it for the third chapter! _Alla prossima!_


	4. Windows to the mind

_\- Windows to the mind -_

* * *

_Is he asleep yet?_

The large golden dragon opened an eye to see him emerge from the dark forest. _No_, he grumbled, and Oromis felt the soft sounds of cautious but restless movements and of a window being gently opened echo in his mind through their bond. _He has been restless the whole evening since you left, and sneaked out through that window when he believed I was asleep, but he did not dare to try and move far from the hut. He slipped back inside and closed the window just a few minutes ago, and I have not heard him moving since… You will probably find him in his bed_, he explained and, after a brief hesitation, in a severe tone, added: _He is keeping an eye on your movements, Oromis._

Oromis pressed his lips together, disappointed but not surprised. _He has no need to behave this way_, he sighed, more to himself than to answer to Glaedr, absentmindedly caressing the smooth surface of the slate tablets he was holding in his hands. _Restlessness and lack of sleep are not crimes to hide._

_His mind is not clear enough for him to understand that you can help him._

_No_, agreed Oromis bitterly, _it is not_.

He could perceive Glaedr's irritation toward that stubborn, irrational behavior as clearly as it was his own, but not even the emotions of his bonded partner could subdue or erase the pain he felt toward the situation of the young human who was under his care.

Not only Galbatorix seemed to be as much in pain as he was the day they arrived at Crags of Tel'naeìr, but Oromis had the grim impression that his condition was slowly worsening. He was not eating; he was not sleeping. And he was not trusting him to ease his suffering, crawling away from any conversation about the topic like a wounded beast, hiding in his own mind as if showing him his suffering was the same as showing his weakness to an enemy. Oromis, more and more frequently, had found himself wondering whether the human was simply dying of pain. Whether he was looking at a child killing himself in front of his own eyes and not doing enough to save him.

Glaedr gently wrapped his conscience around that of the elf, trying to distract him from those painful thoughts with his own cruder emotions. _You cannot force your help on him, if he doesn't wish to be helped_, he said. _You can only keep trying, and you are already doing that… You are already doing everything you can for him._

Through their bond, Oromis felt his desire of having him closer, to hold him with his body other than with his mind, and gave into the wish of his partner, climbing on one of his muscular frontlegs and allowing the dragon to cover them both with his large wings. _I wonder what he does wish for real. This fool behavior of his… What purpose does it have in his mind?_

Glaedr emitted a low hum in his throat, and Oromis felt his mind melding with that of the dragon, flying back with his to the painful memories of grief-broken friends and disciples, of the raw horror they had seen awaiting those unfortunate souls that lost their bonded partner, and were not lucky enough to follow them in the void. Glaedr ripped his own mind from those memories the moment he felt Oromis following his thoughts. _Perhaps he wishes for nothing at all anymore. Perhaps he is just trying to survive the pain_, he finally said. _Whatever he wished for when he asked to see the Council has not been granted him, and now he is here._

Here with them, Glaedr meant. Here with creatures he did not know nor trusted, here with creatures that had destroyed his last hope – the last thing his mind had managed to hold onto to survive the pain of losing Jarnunvösk – and left him with nothing but pain and despair and a mind that was not lucid enough to see through them.

Despite being wrapped in Glaedr's golden wings that hid the world from his eyes, Oromis shot a look in the direction of his hut, suddenly feeling the urge to go to Galbatorix. But it was a bad idea, and he suppressed it. Morning would come soon enough, and he was not sure how the human's already confused mind could react if he started coming to him at night as well, indirectly reminding him that he was being constantly observed. Galbatorix appeared to be still convinced of foolish idea that pretending to be fine was what he needed to do to… and Oromis was still not sure what Galbatorix was trying to obtain with that behavior. Dismantle his idea that his mind was damaged, but aside from that, what? He wondered whether Galbatorix had any plan at all, whether his mind was lucid enough for such a delicate reasoning.

He forced himself to rip his eyes from the direction in which Galbatorix was trying – pretending – to sleep, and flinched, realizing that Glaedr was staring at the marble tables he had placed in his lap. He let his gaze fall on the pale rectangles and he pressed his lips together, but said nothing.

_Careful with certain plans, Oromis_, grumbled the dragon. _This may bite back at you._

_I will be close to protect him and ensure that it doesn't._

Glaedr stared at him with one large eye, and the _heaviness_ of that look slithered through their bond, resting on the elf's mind like an almost physical pressure. _Do not pretend to me that you don't understand, Oromis – aside from you being way too old for these puerile tactics, if you start behaving like our hatchling Morzan I will start treating you like I treat him._

Oromis smiled despite himself. _My apologies._

_Forgiven_, grinned the dragon. _But remember what I said: you are making a hazardous gamble._

_I know. I thought about that, you know I did_, Oromis sighed, and tightened his hold on the slate tablets. _As you know that I have to make a move, a real move, as Galbatorix refuses to do so himself. I need to shake him. Even when I push on him, he just…_ He fought to find the right words, but in the end he just let a rush of memories of the last few days flow through their bond, memories of himself and Galbatorix, memories of them talking and doing things together, memories of Galbatorix trying to smile and being polite, but never taking his hand, always pretending, and remaining distant, distant, distant…

_…Suffers_, completed Glaedr, finding the word for him.

_Yes. Hides and suffers._

_A wounded beast that feels a prey will panic and fight back if forced out of its hiding._

_But Galbatorix is no beast_, he answered firmly, but even in his own mind it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as the dragon. _He is a wounded human child. And since now I am his carer and teacher I must do what is in his best interest, especially if he is unable to do his best interest himself, even if in the moment he may not like it._

_Still a hazardous gamble. This is not a common bitter medicine we are talking about._

_No, but doesn't need to be._

* * *

«A fairth?».

The old elf nodded, holding the slate tablet toward the human. «Have you ever tried to make one?».

Galbatorix hesitated. He looked pale and unhealthy in the bright light of the morning, and he seemed, once again, to have had hardly any sleep that night. «I have» he finally said, but still didn't move to take the offered object. «But it was only once, and a few years ago, Oromis-elda, I am afraid».

Oromis smiled. «This is not a problem in the slightest, Galbatorix-vodhr» he said, encouraging and firm not to let the human politely back away from the challenge. «On the contrary, I would say that I am glad to hear you say so. I am, after all, a teacher, and you are a student… And given your vast personal preparation I hardly had the occasion to teach you anything until this moment, and I would be honored to guide you in this art».

Galbatorix's eyes darted between his silver eyes and the pale tablet, and Oromis noticed him frowning slightly before finally accepting the slate tablet he was offering him. «Thank you, Oromis-elda. I appreciate your help».

Again, that calm, courteous formality. Again, that tone of voice that made it sound as if he was forced to accept – which was true, in a certain way, Oromis reminded himself, but still it was part of much more worrying pattern.

He nodded and made a gesture toward the stack of blank fairth he had put on the table. «Do you remember the words?».

Galbatorix nodded, and, when Oromis looked expectantly at him, recited in the Ancient Language: «"Let that which I see in my mind's eye be replicated on the surface of this tablet"».

«Very well, Galbatorix-vodhr» approved the elf. «Now, as you said that you already possess some familiarity with this practice, challenge yourself, Galbatorix-vodhr».

_…And show me how your mind works._

_Be careful_, growled Glaedr in his mind.

Oromis, and Glaedr through his eyes, carefully observed the young human looking around, almost lost, trying to find something to replicate in a fairth. He could barely imagine how difficult and frustrating that task appeared to his confused mind, fogged and weakened by weeks of lack of sleep and of proper alimentation, and stressed by Galbatorix's obsession with appearing perfect and controlled. By how Galbatorix was moving, turning his head one way and then another, moving a step to one direction and stopping abruptly to look around again, Oromis could clearly tell that he was already starting to realize that there was no way for him to keep his mask unbroken, with this task. There was no correct answer to that question, no possibility of building his actions with precise care to give away only what lie he wanted him to see, nothing to bend and twist with that silver tongue of his.

The art of making a fairth ran on deeper, more spontaneous current of magic. Words could not guide it, direct it, tell the magic what to show on the pale tablet. Words could only tell the slate tablet to accept the magic, awake the colored inks sealed into it… It was the mind that guided the flow, the emotions that composed the picture. Emotions could not lie – they could be hidden, refused, controlled, but never bended, because they came from the most natural and spontaneous part of someone's self, that part that was for real, if such thing existed, a window on a person's soul. It was technically possible to bend this art, of course, like any other element of the world, but to do so there was required a clarity of mind and a firmness of spirit that the human certainly had no way to achieve in his current condition.

And Galbatorix was realizing all this, now. Oromis could read it in his frantic movements, in the way he could not avoid sending quick glances to his direction, almost as if he was feeling pressed by his own presence, pressed to make a choice, to pick a direction, when the only direction he wanted to take, the only direction he felt safe was now precluded to him.

Oromis took a blackberry in his fingers, pretending to observe the soft dark surface to try and give Galbatorix some space to arrange his thoughts without feeling constantly watched, content to observe the human with his other senses only. Long minutes passed before Oromis finally felt him moving slowly to a precise direction toward the trees, and looked up when he was certain that the human could not directly see him.

Galbatorix stopped almost at the edge of the clearing, and kneeled to observe something on the ground. Flowers? That was what he had settled for? Innocent enough as a subject, almost banal, and easy to focus on and to reproduce for a first try. Oromis remembered having already caught Galbatorix observing those particular pink-pearl colored flowers. They were the same color as…

When he caught the sight of a glister in his right palm, Oromis silently got up from his chair, waiting for the human to show him his work.

But Galbatorix didn't came. He didn't move, not even when the elf called his name to catch his attention, nor he gave any indication of having heard him.

Oromis raised an eyebrow and moved to reach him. «Galbatorix-vodhr?» he called again as he approached him, careful not catch him by surprise.

Again, Galbatorix gave no sign of having heard him, until Oromis was almost right beside him. Slowly, he lifted his eyes on the elf, but they were unfocused, as if he was lost in his mind.

«Are you well, Galbatorix-vodhr?» he asked gently.

The human blinked, and pressed his lips together for an instant before taking a silent deep breath and getting up. « I… Yes, Oromis-elda. Forgive me, I was just…».

«Worry not» he reassured him, before slowly moving his hand toward the fairth. «May I see?».

Galbatorix flinched. «Oromis-elda, I… This is not…» he stuttered, tightening his hold on the fairth. «May I try again, please?».

Oromis hesitated, disappointed at the idea of not seeing the result of that exercise and vaguely irritated at being talked back by someone who was by all means his student – something that he would never allow on normal circumstances – but in the end he nodded. After all, this was the first time Galbatorix made an open request, an open asset of will instead of meekly accepting everything he suggested, and if this sole fact was an indication of how important it was for him, then answering with some flexibility could do them both good, in the long run. This was maybe one of the opportunities he was waiting for: to show Galbatorix that he was more than willing to leave him some reasonable space of choice, and so to encourage Galbatorix to voice his thoughts again, in the future, something he desperately needed to form a bond of trust with him.

«Of course, Galbatorix-vodhr» he said, and was pleased to see the relief that passed on the face of the human.

As he passed him another blank table, Oromis did not doubt for a moment that his second attempt was going to be worse than the first one. If Galbatorix had been anxious before making the first fairth, now he was likely panicked, and whatever he had represented on that fairth was now probably hunting him, adding even more pressure to a task that Oromis had intentionally chosen to be out of reach for his wounded mind.

Oromis wondered whether Galbatorix had failed to realize it or was only deceiving himself. Either way, he was going to face the harsh truth soon.

_Perhaps I should have told him to leave that fairth here_, he said as he sat down at the table, feeling a sting of pity for the human despite himself. Despite realizing that pushing him like that was necessary for his own good, seeing him in such a state brough him nor satisfaction nor relief. _Holding it so close will only make it more difficult for him to focus on what he is doing now._

Glaedr snorted. Wherever he was, Oromis could feel that he was laying in the sun. _We both know he would have never left it to you. You could have sworn to him in the Ancient Language that you were not going to peek and he would have still been convinced of the contrary. Also_, the dragon added, _he probably wants both the fairth at hand for when he will have to show you one._

_I do not have the slightest doubt in my mind that he does_, commented Oromis. _I only hope he does realize that I am not going to let him fool me. I'd prefer not to force my authority on him._

Glaedr remained silent, but Oromis could tell that the dragon agreed with him. A moment later he felt Glaedr stretch his massive wings and lie them open on the ground to better catch the warmth on their membranes. _You already forced your authority on him, Oromis. For some reason I doubt he's doing this of his own free will._

Oromis pressed his lips together, feeling the memory of the displeasure Glaedr expressed that night resurfacing and carrying with it a much unwelcome sense of anxiety. He tried to push it aside the best he could. _You know what I mean._

The dragon hummed, and seemed to be about to answer when Oromis felt a sudden gasp coming from the clearing in front of him. He immediately lifted his gaze, and was unsurprised to find Galbatorix once again kneeled in from of the pink-pearl flowers. Even if could not tell for sure from that point of view, Oromis was almost certain that his hands were trembling, and he distinctly saw Galbatorix's head moving slightly, as he likely moved his eyes from the new to the old fairth.

Oromis got up, this time not expecting the human to come to him spontaneously. «Galbatorix-vodhr?» he called, observing cautiously his movements as he approached. «What have you wrought?».

He was almost right behind him when Galbatorix jolted and sprang to his feet, face pale and eyes wide, holding the two fairth close to his chest. Oromis stopped walking immediately in front of that reaction.

At Glaedr's thought, in his mind flashed the image of a frantic deer trapped against a stone wall.

_I am not going to eat him, Glaedr._

_But does he know that?_

Judging by the expression on his face, he probably didn't. He was shaking. But, the despite the pity he felt for the broken child, Oromis could not allow the fear of the human to dominate them both. «Galbatorix-vodhr?» he tried again, in his warmest tone, and gestured for him to pass the fairth.

Galbatorix just opened his mouth, without emitting any sound, his lips moving slightly as if he was trying to say something but could not formulate the words. Almost imperceptibly he shook the head.

«There is no reason to be afraid. I only wish to see so I can offer you my help and advice» he tried to reassure him.

But he was not talking about the fairth, and Galbatorix seemed to know it as much as he did. His black eyes darted downwards, toward the slates in his hands, and then back on the elf as he seemed to be desperately looking for a way out. But there was none, and, even if there had been one, Oromis doubted that he was lucid enough to formulate precise thoughts right now.

He took a slow step toward the human, and was pleased to see that Galbatorix remained still. The human's eyes darted downwards, then on the hand that was asking for his work and down again. Finally, slowly, he looked up at him.

Oromis gave him an encouraging smile, and, carefully observing his expression, moved to take the fairth. Having Galbatorix spontaneously handing it to him would have been better, but, given the circumstances, probably by allowing him to take it Galbatorix was already doing more than he felt comfortable doing. For now, that was enough.

Had he not been so focused on Galbatorix's reactions and expressions, had he not be so intent on observing his movements to see whether Galbatorix would try and offer him the first fairth instead of the second, probably he would have followed his eyes with more attention, and would have seen the stone and prepared himself. But he didn't, and, when Galbatorix snapped, he reacted half a second too late.

The two fairth crashed on the ground, the pictures shattering in a thousand useless fragments against the sharp stone.

Oromis gasped, shocked and startled by that sudden gesture. For a moment, both he and the human observed the now blank fragments among the grass.

«Galbatorix-vodhr!» he snapped, before he could refrain himself.

Galbatorix winced and recoiled, his breath halted and he looked at him with an expression on his face that could only be shock and blind terror. An instant later his eyes moved back on the fragments, as if he himself couldn't explain his own actions. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Oromis pressed his lips together, forcing his own indignation and frustration under control. Of all the possible reactions the human could have, that was the one he had not taken in consideration. Not a direct act like that, not a such a violent challenge to his authority, not after weeks in which the human had tried his absolute best to be calm and polite and obedient. But losing his patience would bring him nowhere.

«Galbatorix-vodhr, that was uncalled for» he reprimanded him, calmer but firm. Then, in a gentler tone, added: «You need to calm yourself. Breath, deep breaths».

But Galbatorix merely looked at him, eyes wide and unfocused.

Lifting a finger in his line of vision to catch his attention, Oromis pointed toward the table. «Let's go sit down, we need to talk» he said, and moved to reach his shoulder.

For a moment, Galbatorix followed his hand with his eyes, almost uncertain of what it meant, but as Oromis was about to touch him he suddenly flinched.

With a sharp cry, he slapped his hand away and jumped away from him, barely managing to keep his balance as he stumbled upon his own feet.

_This is not good at all._

«Galbatorix-vodhr–».

Galbatorix turned and ran in the woods.

* * *

_Do you want me to find him for you?_

Oromis sighed and shook his head. Even if they were by no mean close, Glaedr would still perceive his gesture through their connection. _He will return on his own_, he said, looking through the window. The clearing outside his hut was tinted of warm colors of the sunset, and, despite the confidence he was trying to transmit through his mental voice, Oromis was starting to feel slightly nervous. _The forest is too heavily guarded for him to go anywhere, and none of the wards I put around the Crags of Tel'naeìr has been crossed_, he explained, more to himself than to the dragon. _He's still close. He knows he can go nowhere but here. He'll return._

Glaedr hesitated, his mind radiating a vague sense of disapproval, but through their bond Oromis perceived him flying directly toward his hut instead of slowing down to look for Galbatorix like he would have preferred to do. Oromis could feel that the dragon was still thinking about his hazardous gamble of that morning, but Glaedr avoided bringing it up and instead asked: _How can you be so sure?_

_Where can he go if not here? What else can he do? He is smart enough to know that he will never manage to pass Gilderien's guard. It would be madness to even try, in his condition. He'd get caught and brough back to us, and it is not in his interest to look insane._

_You're being too logic_, grumbled Glaedr. _Galbatorix is anything but logic now. What he sees is twisted by pain, and now he is also scared. Today you tried to force him to show his emotions, and in his desperate attempt to hide them he ended up showing that exact side of his mind he was trying to hide from us. Given how fixed he has been on keeping an exemplary behavior in front of us, as if his life depended on it…_

Oromis frowned, Galbatorix's panicked expression suddenly flashing before his eyes. His trembling hands. Had it been pain caused by what the fairth had showed him, or fear at what was going to happen to him should his mask fall? _He has convinced himself that he lost everything and now will be considered insane and exiled._

_I would be surprised if he didn't._

Oromis stopped the urge to sigh again, a sense of guilt suddenly pressing over his chest, and shot a look at the dinner he had prepared for Galbatorix and himself, that was waiting for them on the table. _I hoped he would return by himself. That would have been ideal for all of us_, he admitted, getting up from his armchair. There were the faint thumps of Glaedr's wings coming from the sky. _But I guess you are once again right._

Glaedr's mind radiated warm satisfaction, and an instant later he deepened their bond to let Oromis feel the rush of the wind as he dived toward the clearing in front of his hut.

Oromis came out the door right in time to see the dragon land. He couldn't help smiling as he walked towards him, lifting his hands to caress the rough scales on his snout.

_Are you sure you do not want me to find him for you?_

Oromis shook his head, and, as Glaedr lied down, climbed on one of his frontlegs. _It will be easier and less stressful this way_, he said, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. _Just give me a few minutes…_

Even after Jarnunvösk's death, Galbatorix still held in him traces of her magic, and it was a magic like nothing else, that only Riders possessed. A magic of the purest form, closest to nature than any other. Nature perceived it and, especially there, in the Du Weldenvarden, where life and magic were deeply interlaced, reacted to it and to the passage of those who possessed it.

Centuries of meditation allowed him to touch the mind of the living creatures for a great distance around him. Gently, careful not to disturb their lives, he brushed their conscience until he found the ones that carried the unconscious sensations he was looking for. Deepening the contact with those, he swiftly moved from the keen eyes of a hawk to the anxious mind of a rabbit, until he found himself a small squirrel, that suddenly jolted a few feet along branch it was sitting on when a large shadow passed a bit too close under its resting place.

_Found him_, announced Oromis, slipping away from his state of meditation.

Around him, the reddish-orange light of the sunset had mutated in a dark purple color, that was on its way to become blue and black. He sighed. Night was going to fall on them before he could even reach Galbatorix, let alone return home.

Examining his memories, Glaedr located the place Oromis had found. _I will carry you, at least on the way there. It will be faster_, he announced, and gently pushed the elf down from his frontleg and towards the hut. _Get the saddle._

* * *

It took barely a few minutes to cover the distance from his hut to where he had spotted Galbatorix, but the sky had already darkened by the time they landed.

Unsure of how the human could react seeing the large golden dragon diving on him, Glaedr let Oromis dismount in a clearing at a safe distance and cover the rest of the distance on foot. It was a difficult terrain, with a thick vegetation that made it easy to lose the orientation or slip and get injured.

As he moved, Oromis glanced back above his own shoulder to where the Crags of Tel'naeìr were, pondering. What was Galbatorix doing there?

He stopped and closed his eyes, searching with his mind. It was much easier now that he had a general direction, and he was quickly able to spot Galbatorix in the eyes of an owl. He had moved from the point he was the last time he had checked on him. The owl soared the sky above the human long enough to allow Oromis to see that Galbatorix was going uphill, toward…

Oromis slipped back in himself and turned to where he had spotted Galbatorix, frowning. There was hardly anything in that direction, only the deepest parts of the forest. Galbatorix was moving nor towards the Crags of Tel'naeìr nor towards south, which was his best try to escape the elven realm, should he want to try.

Was he lost? It was entirely possible. That terrain was similar enough to the path they had taken the day he led him to the Crags of Tel'naeìr, and Oromis could see how a human, unused to the vast, savage vegetation of the Du Weldenvarden, could easily lose his way. Even he, used as he was to that territory, needed to check his path to make sure he was going in the right direction. Now he was glad that Glaedr had convinced him to go look for the human.

He spotted Galbatorix a few minutes later. He looked exhausted and tense, and Oromis thought it to be a good idea to announce himself from a distance not to spook him too much.

«Galbatorix-vodhr?».

Despite his soft tone, the human jumped, his hand flinching as if to grab a sword he was not carrying by his side. Spotting him seemed to do little to calm his nerves, but at least his expression changed from fear to cautiousness.

Oromis took a step forward, approaching him as he would a scared animal. But if an animal desperate to return home or an animal desperate to escape, he couldn't tell. «I was waiting for you to return».

Galbatorix hesitated, as if he was waiting for him to say something else. When the elf didn't spoke, he bowed his head: «I beg your pardon, Oromis-elda. My behavior was inexcusable, I…».

«Your behavior was rather foolish» recognized Oromis, and couldn't help but notice that Galbatorix was already starting to slip back in his usual, formal behavior. But it was still better than what he had seen that morning.

«I apologize».

«You already apologized, if I remember right».

Silence fell between them, and for long minutes there was no sound but the whispers of the nature around them.

There a space in the foliage right above his head, a window to the sky that allowed him see the bright, silver stars shining in the deep darkness of the night. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something that still shone, in Galbatorix's torn soul. Whatever the answer was, he needed to keep trying to find it. Nothing ever comes without failure.

_...But I need to find another way._

«Shall we return home, Galbatorix-vodhr?».

Galbatorix didn't answer, and, when Oromis tried to touch on the shoulder moved to avoid his fingers. But he followed him anyway.

* * *

_End of the chapter_

* * *

Author's notes:

This took forever. I am so very sorry – huge writer's block.

A special thank you to all the people who put What teachers are for in their followed/favorite stories. I wish I could hug you all one by one.

_Ikainica:_ Thank you! Eh, Morzan is one of my absolute favorites of the old generation and Brom… well, they're a bit of a buy one get another one for free, aren't they?

_Dream Plane:_ Eh, yeah. Why would it be so bad for Galbatorix to get another dragon? Unfortunately, in canon it is never specified, and it is a bit of a plot hole. Especially if we consider that it is the dragon that chooses the Rider, and so if a young dragon had hatched for Galbatorix it meant that that dragon wanted to stay with him, no matter his state of mind. In this story, Oromis refused him to try for another dragon because he felt that Galbatorix was not lucid. He was trying to get back Jarnunvösk by getting another dragon, and this is definitively not healthy, because the new dragon would have never been able to be Jarnunvösk. And in the long run Galbatorix and that dragon would have both suffered greatly. Oromis was trying to protect them both.

(I recently discovered that you can actually answer to reviews via PM *facepalm*. I guess this is the last chapter in which I answer this way xD)

…So, guys. This is it for the fourth chapter! _Alla prossima!_


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